


at least you're smart

by cori_the_bloody



Series: clexa week 2016 [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Banter, F/F, Missing Scene, episode insert, lexa's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 07:50:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7258885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cori_the_bloody/pseuds/cori_the_bloody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scenes from 2.10 - Survival of the Fittest.<br/>Written for <a href="http://clexasource.tumblr.com/tagged/clexaweek">clexa week</a> day 1: the moment you started shipping them</p>
            </blockquote>





	at least you're smart

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters or the universe, just having fun with them. All the dialogue from the episode belongs to the writer. I'm merely using it to explore Lexa's POV  
>  **Author's Note:** This is unbeta'd, so please excuse any errors.  
>  The actual moment I started shipping clexa is the title of this one-shot, but I've always been interested in writing about Lexa's thoughts while she watched Clarke sleep, so. This is super self-indulgent. I hope you like it. :)

Lexa watches curiously as Clarke barricades the door with her sword, locking them in this strange, barred enclosure. She can already feel her heart rate returning to normal, the pounding in her head dissipating, and the adrenaline leaking out of her body.

Unfortunately, she can’t say the same for the pain in her arm. To wiggle her fingers feels like holding her forearm in a crackling fire.

Still, her eyes don’t leave the _Skaikru_ leader as she backs into the wall and slides to the ground across from where Lexa’s sitting. She watches Clarke’s chest heave for a moment before forcing her eyes up to examine Clarke’s face.

Her lips are parted, beads of sweat glimmer along her forehead, and her eyes are squeezed shut. Lexa can practically feel the thudding of her heart despite being several meters away.

A _thank you_ bubbles to her lips, but she catches it with the tip of her tongue and swallows it back down. Though she certainly owes Clarke her gratitude, it’s probably best not to admit that she was scared and in need of saving just yet.

After all, she’s still trying to get her bearings around Clarke, to figure out how best to connect with her. The spirited girl from the sky never reacts to anything the way Lexa expects—especially the demand that she be left behind.

_Nowe_ …the word echoes through Lexa’s head, making her feel as though she has the same density as a feather.

Clarke takes a deep, steadying breath and then opens her eyes. Her gaze immediately locks on Lexa.

She feels blood rush into her cheeks, ashamed for being caught staring, but she refuses to look away.

To do so would be to admit cowardice.

Clarke cocks one alluring eyebrow at her. Lexa presses her lips together, staving off a gulp.

_Quick Lexa, a diversion is in order._

“I must admit, I've never tried evading an attacker by trapping myself in an easily accessible dead end,” she says, tilting her head ever-so-slightly.

Clarke sneers at her, but it does nothing to intimidate. Lexa’s far too taken with the cherry-blossom pink of her lips to be put off by the expression…at least not in the way Clarke surely wants.

“I bought us time to regroup, didn’t I?” Clarke says, quick as always.

“Who knows how much,” Lexa points out. “We need a plan. _Pauna_ gains the upper hand once darkness descends.”

Clarke glances toward the sky. Pre-twilight blue light filters through the holes in the ceiling.

Her eyes find Lexa’s again and she nods. “Right. I don’t suppose hoping someone finds us counts as a plan?”

“Even if my warriors did come looking, I doubt they would make it to our exact location. An aggravated, radioactive giant stands between them and us.”

“And we know guns only slow that thing down, so my people aren’t exactly equipped to do much better.”

Lexa hums in agreement, and Clarke punches the ground, evidently frustrated.

“Okay. No. This is fine. We’ll work something out. We have to.”

Though she doesn’t say anything aloud, Lexa can’t help admiring Clarke’s resolve. She has all the makings of an excellent leader: dogged determination, a clear understanding of her own morals, a brave heart, and, most of all, people willing to follow her.

She is, however, a slave to her emotions, and Lexa knows firsthand how dangerous a mentality that is when you are responsible for the lives of others.

“Maybe there’s another way out,” Clarke says, pushing to her feet. “We could sneak away without attracting attention.”

“And if there’s not?” Lexa asks.

Clarke shoots her a withering look that makes Lexa’s heart jump all too readily.

“I’m only good for one plan at a time, Commander. Trial and error. That is, unless you have a better idea?”

Lexa tilts her chin up in defiance of Clarke’s challenge but remains silent.

“Looking for another exit it is,” Clarke says, smiling smugly.

When Lexa tries standing, ready to help Clarke search, a searing pain shoots through her arm.

“Ah,” Lexa gaps quietly, then clamps her mouth shut and exhales noisily through her nose.

“Oh crap,” Clarke says, falling to her side. “I can’t believe forgot about your arm! I’m so sorry.”

“No need,” Lexa says, trying to brush her off.

But Clarke clasps onto her good shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze, catching her off guard. “Let me see what I can do to make you more comfortable,” she says, her voice caught somewhere between a request and a demand.

She waits, staring expectantly into Lexa’s eyes until she nods once, giving permission.

Carefully, Clarke helps Lexa to her feet, one hand cupping her elbow and the other hovering over her waist.

To keep herself from leaning into the touch, Lexa keeps up a steady mantra of _weakness, weakness, weakness_ in her head.

It works until Clarke’s fingers grab her hand and start their practiced, methodical, tender prodding. That’s when Lexa’s mind goes blank.

She can feel Clarke’s eyes on her face and, when she winces, Clarke sighs. “Yup. It’s definitely broken. We’ll need to set it when we get back to camp, but for now…”

As she surveys their surroundings, Lexa surveys Clarke’s face. She has a delicately turned nose and a youthful roundness to her cheeks that makes Lexa want to reach out and—

“Here!” Clarke says, bounding forward with a triumphant spring in her step. She holds up a dirty sheet, turning it in her hands till she finds the cleanest section.

The following ripping noise echoes throughout the space and Lexa glances toward the door in apprehension.

She really has no business focusing on Clarke’s beauty or strength of spirit when they could very easily die any moment. She needs to regain her perspective and force some mental distance between her and Clarke.

Which is easier said than done when Clarke sweeps her hair over one shoulder, her cool fingers tickling the back of Lexa’s neck.

She swallows hard as Clarke reaches around her, getting the makeshift sling to sit just right.

_Weakness, weakness, weakness, weakness, weakness._

Clarke goes to work tying a knot over Lexa’s shoulder, and she’s surely close enough to hear the erratic pounding of her heart.

Lexa panics.

“You should have left me behind,” she says, forcing her voice to be cool and even. “Now two will die here instead of one.”

Clarke finishes securing the sling and scoffs.

Maybe it’s Lexa’s overactive imagination, but it seems as though hurt flashes in her eyes before she turns and starts looking for their alternative exit.

“I’m still new to your culture, but when someone saves your life, my people say ‘thank you’.”

“I’m serious, Clarke. To lead well you must make hard choices.”

“Hard choices? You’re telling _me_ that?”

Though Clarke is often hard to read, Lexa knows exactly what she’s referring to: the fact that she did not hesitate in killing her love to spare him a more torturous death.

“I’ve seen your strength it’s true. But now you waver. You couldn’t kill Quint.” She pauses and makes pointed eye contact. “You couldn’t leave me to die. That was weakness.”

Does Clarke hear the desperation to protect in her voice? The frantic need to prepare her for what’s to come?

“I thought love was weakness.”

Evidently not. “Mockery is not the product of a strong mind, Clarke.”

Clarke rounds on her. “You want to know why I saved you? Because I need you. God forbid one of your generals becomes Commander. You may be heartless, Lexa, but at least you’re smart.”

Lexa’s so caught off guard that a surprised and pleased smile tugs on her lips before she’s able to rein in her delight. It makes her happier than it should that Clarke regards her, well—not highly, exactly—but as someone worthy of being her partner in taking down the mountain.

A warmth spreads through her, radiating from her chest out to her fingertips.

“Don’t worry,” she says, the daffy smile still on her face. “ My spirit will choose much more wisely than that.”

“Your spirit?” Clarke asks, her brow furrowing with confusion.

“When I die, my spirit will find the next Commander,” Lexa explains.

“Reincarnation…that’s how you became Commander?”

The common ground between them disappears so suddenly and Lexa’s left suspended in freefall.

“How are your leaders chosen?” she asks, genuinely curious.

Clarke doesn’t get the chance to answer, though, because a series of bangs sound from the other side of their pitiful barricade, making both of them jump.

“It found us,” Clarke says, the worry plain in her voice.

Though it should hardly be her first priority, Lexa’s impulse is to protect her. “Don’t be afraid, Clarke. Death is not the end.”

“We are _not_ dying here,” she says. “I need your spirit to stay where it is.”

Lexa smiles inwardly as she pulls out her knife, the only weapon at her disposal. “Then get ready to fight. It’s coming in.”

“…Maybe we let it in.” Clarke moves for the door. “Come here!” she commands.

For some reason—be it instinct or something much more foolish—Lexa obeys instantly. She stands beside Clarke, tensed and ready to follow her lead.

“Now!”

Clarke removes Lexa’s bent up sword from the door and tosses it aside. _Pauna_ comes crashing into the room, clumsy with momentum.

“Go!” Clarke says, urging Lexa out of the enclosure and following close behind.

They lock the door behind them and take a moment to catch their breath.

Lexa can still feel the warm press of Clarke’s palm against her lower back.

“Let’s go,” she says, clearing her throat and shaking the distraction from her mind.

They walk in concentrated silence for several minutes, trying to ascertain which direction to take back to camp. However, the forest gets darker and darker around them.

“Wandering aimlessly will only bring us trouble,” Lexa says, stopping Clarke once they get to a mossy clearing. “We should rest here for the night.”

“Do you think we’re far enough away from that thing?” she asks, looking back the way they came.

“I’m willing to play the odds of _Pauna_ escaping against those of us falling prey to a different kind of monster while trying to navigate through pitch black.”

Clarke takes a moment to consider. “Okay then.”

They briefly part ways—Clarke gathers wood for a fire while Lexa moves, sly and silent, through the woods in search of dinner.

Clarke already has the fire blazing by the time she comes back with a rabbit.

“I’m impressed,” Clarke says, taking it from her so she can start skinning their meal, a job that traditionally requires the use of two hands.

“I told you,” Lexa says, allowing a bit of haughtiness to leak into her voice as she lowers herself to the ground. “I am a skilled hunter.”

Clarke responding smile, soft and kind as it is, disarms her pride. “Thank you.”

Lexa glances down and fiddles with her knife, trying to not show how affected she is under Clarke’s stare.

“It’s merely a rabbit,” Lexa says.

“Not just for that,” Clarke says. “For saving my life earlier today. For opening yourself up to criticism from your people just to work with me. For, you know, everything. I know we don’t completely understand each other, but I think we can do this. I think we can beat Mount Weather.”

“One _Pauna_ does not an entire mountain make,” Lexa says quietly, but her heart lurches.

“No,” Clarke agrees. “But you gotta admit. We make a good team.”

Lexa smiles at her lap.

They eat in silence if only because they’re both ravenous from the day of stress. Once they’ve finished, Clarke sprawls out on the ground, cupping her head in one hand and rubbing her stomach with the other.

“You should rest,” Lexa says. “You’ve had a long day.”

Clarke tilts her head back so she can look at her. “What about you?”

“I’ll keep watch.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind taking first shift.”

Lexa shakes her head and nods at her injured arm. “Sleeping on the ground would be much too uncomfortable. Do not worry. I’ll keep watch.”

Clarke shifts up onto her elbow to scrutinize her with narrowed eyes. “You should try to rest though. I mean, you’ll need it.”

“Trust me, Clarke. You’re tired. I’m restless. It’s only logical that you get some sleep. We need someone to have all their wits about them in the morning so they can lead us back to camp, after all.”

The appeal to reason works. With a grateful smile, Clarke rolls onto her back and closes her eyes.

It’s only a matter of minutes before her every breath is deep and languid.

Lexa really does try to stop herself from staring, but her eyes are drawn to Clarke’s face like moth to flame.

She’s lying just outside the ring of the fire’s warm glow, but a sliver of moonlight cuts around her face, making her hair shimmer white-gold and casting her eyelashes into sharp definition.

It cannot be explained or justified, the feeling of intense _longing_ that rises in Lexa’s chest as she watches Clarke’s lips part in peaceful slumber. She looks so much younger without the ferocity of her attitude sending shockwaves of warning out for several meters in every direction, wherever she goes.

She’s a force—the likes of which Lexa has never experienced before—but she’s just a girl.

Though Lexa supposes the same could be said for her.

She sighs and lets her mind run through the events of the day. She tries to focus on the strategic meeting or the loss of yet another strong warrior at the hands of the _Skaikru_ truce, but her mind races ahead to one moment in particular.

_I need you…you may be heartless, Lexa, but at least you’re smart._

The sentiment echoes through Lexa’s mind: a very different kind of mantra. More of an infatuation, really.

_Heartless. Smart._

Lexa studies Clarke, committing every curve and feature of her face to memory as those two words chase each other around and around in her mind.

There was a time when she wasn’t heartless _or_ very smart. There was a time when she trusted too easily and loved too profoundly, but she cut herself off from that version of herself on purpose.

As she watches Clarke, though—watches the way the light of the rising sun sets her features aflame with vivid color, watches as she murmurs to herself and shifts in her sleep—Lexa wonders if she’s really put that much distance between herself and her stupid, trusting heart.

She also wonders, indulgent and foolish, if it would really be that detrimental to give in and open herself back up to the heartache and pain and joy and wonder.

Off in the distance, _Pauna_ wakes and cries out in anger, no doubt frustrated to still be in captivity.

The noise has Clarke jolting upright. Gone is the peaceful girl bathed in moonlight.

Back is the alert and careful and emotion-driven leader of her people.

Lexa swallows thickly.

“It’s okay,” she says. “You’re safe.”


End file.
